"You do forgive me!" A sort of triumph was in the eager note of his voice. "You say 'poor boy!' You do forgive me!" He advanced toward her.
But Aurora also had risen quickly. Now, suddenly, some shock came to her, vivifying, clarifying. The needle of her heart swung on the dial of Today.
"Forgive you!" she exclaimed, her color suddenly gone high. "Forgive you—what do you mean?—what do you mean?"
"You said you pitied me——"
"Pity you, yes, I do. I'm sorry for you from the bottom of my heart. I'd be sorry to see any man go through what you've got to face. Yes, pity you—but—love you? What do you mean? Is that what you mean? Respect you—is that what you mean? Oh, no! Oh, no! Use for you, in any way in the world?—Oh, no! Oh, no! Don't mistake. Pity—that's all! Don't I know what it means to descend into hell? And that's what you must do."
"But, Aurie—Aurie—you just said——"
"I said I was sorry for you, and so I am, in all my heart. But he's our boy. I've paid my share in anguish. So must you."
"Haven't I? Haven't I?"
"Not yet! You're only beginning. It takes twenty years.—Oh, not of hidden and secret repentance—but open repentance, before all the world! And square living. And your prayer to God each night for twenty years for understanding and forgiveness!
"Go out and earn it," she said, walking to the door and opening it. "Pity?—yes. Love? No—no—no! I've no use for you. I don't need you now. My boy doesn't need you—we're able to stand alone. We've succeeded! You? You're a failure—you're a broken-down, used-up, hopeless failure—so much, I'm sorry for you, sorry.